The weekly sentinel. [volume] (Winston-Salem, N.C.) 1886-1887, 1887-05-05
he WAS FULL OF NERVES.
Mark Twasn's Narrowing Experiences with
Mice and Other Monsters.

Mark Twasn's Narrowing Experiences with
Mice and Other Monsters
Mr.. Steve Giliis, printer and journalist.
was the friend and room mate of Mark
Twain in the old days when the latter
was reporter on the Call, says the San
Francisco Post. They had likewise suf-
sagebrush, the dusty green foliage OF
which they frequently succeeded In
turning to bright red. Mark was and
IS e. ve-y nervous man. Small annoy
snces robbed his life of sweetness and
light Stephen had no nerves and it gave
oin a malign pleasure to experiment
upon those Of Mr.. Clemens
"Steve," cried Mark. in an agonized
voice. shaking his bedfellow out of an
apparently profound slumber. do you
hsa- that mouse-that internal, gnawing
mouse? It's driving me Wild
"Oh, hang the mouse, growled ellis,
turning over and snoring ostentatiously.
It wasn't mouse, but a little machine
which Stephen was privately working
with a string for the benevolent purpose
of to-turing his friend.
Mark lay and writhed and cursed and
CRASHED his teeth. He cried shoe and
beat upon the headboard. He got up
and threw things under the bed, and
walked around the room and wrung his
hands and nloistened his profanity with
tears OF irnpotent evaporation.
The mouse still gnawed and Twain put
on his clothes and went forth and paced
the streets till morning, leaving his tor
mentor 80 revel ii bed.
Halo, San. wat have you been do
inc:" asked ellis another night, startled
out of real sleep this time and sitting up
IN oed. and no wonder he was startled.
Mark, undressed, had just entered the
room In his hand he held a Japanese
sword. as sharp as a razor. priced gift
from Bayard Taylor. This weapon was
dripping with blood. The clock struck
midnight.
Hell never crow again. exulted the
assassin; but even as he crawled into
bed the offending rooster sent fo,th a
cock-a-s oodie-do that caused Mark to
give a howl of foiled vengeance and bury
his head under the blankets.
In the morning il was discovered that
his one furious stroke IN the chicken
house had bereft eight hens of their
heads. bat the rooster 2aG escaped. He
owed his life to tie fortunate circum-
stance that ne slept-Or rather crowed-
at the end of the perch fartaest from the
door Of the coop.
Steve. Steve, I say wake up came
a hoarae and furious whisper at An.
Mr.. ellis awoke ard 5eneld Mr.
Clemens lad only in his shirt, Standing
by the open window. The hight was
cold, and Mr.. Clemens was shieering
Yio.er. y. In his shaking nand was a
revolver.
Steve he pleaded, you're warm
and your nerve is good. Get up and
shoot this cat for me. I've been out in
the ard for an hour trying to get bead
on the brute, and now that he's there on
the fence I can't kill him-Oh, know
that I can Kill him Get up, Steve, do. F"
son. let the alone"
..Wnlt? You won't get up? Then,
Steve Gillis, Ill shoot you. I N shaky,
but / can DO that if L can't hit cat!'
And Mr.. ellis arose and slew the cat
in seIf-,ie:ense, and Mark Twain went
out aud brought in a bottle and sat up
| till sunrise TO celebrate the execution.
Mark TWAIN and Dan De guile roomed
| together in early Comstock days. One
| morning Dan missed his boots, and after
vain search he suspiciously inquired OF
Mark, who was lying in bed, lazily smok
ing clay pipe:
MARX, I can't find myboots. Do 70,
| know anything about emp
Your boots?" complacently replied
Mark. .'Wen, yes; / threw them a
that cat that was yowling around tn
house last night!'
Threw my boots at the cat p howlet
Dan in rage: Why didn't you throw
| your own boots?'
DAN" said Mark, after reflectiv
puff or two; Dan, if there is anythin
| I hate it is selfish man. I have oh
served of late that you are growing sci
| fish. What difference does it max
whose boots were thrown at that cat
Dan, beware of selfishness. It is tn
most contemplate trait in human ma
ture."